


Extraordinary Ordinary

by faequeentitania



Category: Agents of Cracked, Cracked - Ambiguous Fandom, Cracked.com
Genre: M/M, Magic, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faequeentitania/pseuds/faequeentitania
Summary: Michael brought Dan back from the dead. Seven times, to be exact.More than that, every time he did it he gave a little bit of himself to Dan; poured in a little more power, a little more magic. Straight into the fiber of his body, his very DNA.Dan was struggling with that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Life's Too Short For Business Lunch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492311) by [hrtbnr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrtbnr/pseuds/hrtbnr). 



> An unofficial sequel to the blatantly amazing fic "Life's Too Short For Business Lunch". Go read it. Right now. It's beautiful and I love it, hence my desire to write a sequel for it. It's one of my absolute favs.

Michael brought Dan back from the dead. Seven times, to be exact.

More than that, every time he did it he gave a little bit of himself to Dan; poured in a little more power, a little more magic. Straight into the fiber of his body, his very DNA.

Dan was struggling with that.

He tried to remember his bouts of consciousness, between all the times he died. Michael killed the other Chiefs. He killed them and pulled their power from them; used that to fuel himself and to push life back into Dan. Those were facts he knew because the Chief, their Chief, had told him.

He wished he could remember it for himself. Not that he hadn't seen the violence Michael could inflict before, it wasn't that. But he knew that Michael only understood a fraction of what he was capable of, and it just boggled his mind how vapid, clueless Michael had managed to take down powerful, ancient Chiefs.

It shouldn't have been possible. Dan should by all means still be just a mess of flesh and broken bone, and Michael reduced to ash; left to rot in the middle of a forest until some hikers stumbled upon his sorry remains.

But he wasn’t. He was alive, and Michael too; two out of the only three Chiefs left in the world.

It was hard to wrap his brain around. Even harder to get a handle on the magic humming through his body.

Needless to say, he understood the hero’s struggle in superhero comics really well now. The mantel of responsibility, the struggle of learning how to use your abilities, the doubts that you ever would. It was stressful.

They remained at the Chief’s house, even after Dan regained his strength and finally shook off the clinging hooks Death was trying to keep in him.

He was pretty sure there was a sense of guilt that kept the Chief from kicking them out. Or maybe solidarity; it was just the three of them now, the last Chiefs in existence.

Whatever the reason, Dan didn't question it. He was just happy to have someplace isolated from the rest of the world while he tried to figure out exactly what he could do with this newfound magic.

He could send ice crystals skittering across a puddle, his flesh turning an alarming shade of blue whenever he did it.

This power had come easily; barely a day back from the brink of death and he had felt that power flow from him, almost like moving one of his own limbs. It was strange and terrifying, and just the first of many more moments of discovery to come.

He was fairly certain he could manipulate time. That one was harder to pin down, as he didn't seem to be able to do it on command. But more often than not, he would wake up in the morning, look at the clock, and promptly go back to sleep. He would wake again what he was certain was several hours later, only to find that no time had passed. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

The ability he had the most tumultuous relationship with was the telepathy.

Mostly because the main person he interacted with on a daily basis was Michael. As much as he loved the man (a complicated issue he was struggling with independent of his new powers), being privy to his brain was a lesson in patience.

It was mostly noise. Like a badly tuned radio, or a TV flipping from station to station incessantly. Occasionally there would be colors, or dizzying, incredible moments of clarity where Dan truly understood how Michael had tapped into the secrets of the universe.

Weirdly, it wasn't as distracting when he was touching Michael. He didn't know if Dan’s proximity was just something that Michael liked and could more easily focus on, making the chaos in his head less messy, or it was like moving closer to a radio tower; the closer you got the more clear the signal.

It was different with other people. The Chief felt like... like the hollow sound of water dripping in a deep cave. Deep, ancient, dark; full of secrets and unfathomable pockets and dangerous traps.

Sarge was like a beehive. Just this constant buzz, ready to swarm and kill at a moment's notice. There was this tacky sweetness inside, though, hidden away and carefully protected.

He hadn't expected to see Sarge again. Almost a month of babysitting Michael and Dan’s almost-dead body, and he was sure Sarge would be done with them.

Yet he continued to check in. Would walk with Dan around the grounds of the Chief’s home, mostly silent, but occasionally telling war stories.

Dan wondered if he’d gotten stuck in Michael’s gravitational pull, like Dan did. He didn't ask, and Sarge didn't offer.

Either way, he spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to keep everyone else’s thoughts out of his head. Not in a mean way, it just would make life more comfortable if he was the only person in his brain again.

Sometimes it was nice, though. Sometimes Michael’s emotions came through the noise loud and clear and Dan was perpetually amazed at Michael’s adoration of him.

He thought about that a lot, actually. About the lengths Michael had been willing to go to pull Dan back from death over and over. It didn't make any sense, Michael should have gotten bored and frustrated and decided that Dan wasn't worth the effort or the attention span necessary to bring him back to life _seven times_.

“What makes me so special?” he asked the Chief.

Dan wasn't sure if the Chief had purposefully thrown off the shadowy, mysterious badass shroud he usually wrapped himself in, or if Dan was just strong enough to see through it now.

Either way, it was strange and surreal to equate the man in front of him with the foreboding figure he was used to.

The Chief shrugged, his voice lacking the deep, eerie reverb when he answered, “Maybe it’s because you never seemed to hate him. Michael’s a bit like a dog; he can sense it when someone feels negatively toward him, even if he doesn't realize that's what he’s sensing. But even at his worst, you never hated him. All the other chew toys did, by the end.”

The Chief titled his head, looking at Dan critically, and Dan shifted his weight with unease. Even without the smoke and mirrors he was intimidating, and Dan felt small in his presence.

“Why is that?” the Chief asked, “Why didn't you hate him?”

Dan blinked, unsure of the answer himself. Michael was just... Michael. Frustrating and infuriating and often downright dangerous and frightening, but somehow still endearing and innocent. It was a baffling juxtaposition, but hating him never crossed Dan’s mind. Even when he literally drove Dan to drink.

“I don't know,” he answered truthfully, “I really don't. Even when every single thing that came out of his mouth made me want to punch him in the throat... I don't know.”

The Chief just stared, and Dan felt his face flush at the intense scrutiny.

“I made a good choice, hiring you,” he said finally, and Dan’s face heated even more.

They were interrupted by Michael, bursting in in a flurry of movement and radio static thoughts, asking Dan what his opinion was on high fructose corn syrup.

So it went, until Dan had the courage to ask if he could come back to Cracked. The Chief said yes.

Life went back to normal, or their version of normal, anyway. Their coworkers seemed unfazed by their resurrection, either because they were used to the weird that followed him and Michael around like a cloud, or because the Chief had erased the memory of their demise from everyone’s minds.

Dan didn't ask, there wasn't really a reason to.

The same work, the same shenanigans; it was almost as if he never left.

Only now he had to deal with occasionally being overwhelmed by the thoughts of all his fellow Cracked coworkers pressing in on him from all sides. That part sucked.

What didn't suck was Michael coming home with him at the end of the day.

Dan never officially invited Michael to live with him; like most things, Michael just decided that that was what was going to happen and the universe fell into place at his will.

Dan could have fought harder to change it, but he decided not to. Don't fix what isn't broken, and all that.

He had gotten used to Michael’s constant presence while they were at the Chief’s, and the idea of occupying his new, little apartment by himself held a lot less appeal than it used to.

He settled against Michael and his kaleidoscope thoughts, the room dark except for the glow of Michael’s Gameboy.

He threw the system on the bedside table with a disgusted sound, “Ugh, Kirby, you’re fucking up everything.”

Dan didn't bother to ask, just rolled his eyes and gave his head a little shake.

“Michael?”

“Sup?”

“Why did you save me?”

“I didn't,” Michael said with a snort, “You can only have one game saved at a time on Gameboy, remember?”

“No,” Dan sighed, “When our hot air balloon crashed, and I died. Why did you keep bringing me back?”

“Oh.”

Silence. Dan waited for several long minutes before nudging Michael with another sigh.

“Michael.”

“What? Yes. No. What was the question?”

“Why did you bring me back from the dead seven times?” Dan asked again, the need to understand why burning in the back of his head for months. He needed to understand.

“Because you kept dying, so that's how many times it took for you to stop doing that, duh, Dan.”

“No, I mean-” Dan took a deep breath, pressing his face into Michael’s shoulder and praying for patience.

“Why didn't you give up? Why didn't you just let me die?”

“I ain't no quitter, Dan. Couldn't just _let_ death win, how boring would that be? A miraculous resurrection in Act II was just what our story needed. I couldn't disappoint the crowd.”

Dan gave up. This was going nowhere fast and he just didn't have the drive to try to talk Mike into a straight answer.

“Just... shut up and kiss me,” Dan sighed, and a wave of excitement and eagerness flowed through Michael and into him so fast he gasped.

Next thing he knew he was on his back, Michael on top of him and kissing the living daylights out of him.

It was ridiculously easy to get riled up like this; his pleasure and Michael’s getting tangled up in his head until he was humping Michael’s hip desperately.

Neither of them had the patience for more than some quick and dirty frottage, and Dan kicked off his tacky boxers afterwards as they both caught their breath.

He was riding high on the wave of pleasure that Michael’s orgasm had flooded into his brain; an overwhelming and amazing chaser to the peak of his own.

He wondered sometimes if other people’s orgasms would feel different than Michael’s, but if he was honest with himself he didn't really have any motivation to find out.

Michael manhandled him closer, wrapping his long arms and legs around Dan like an octopus. Dan went into it willingly, Michael’s usually chaotic brain flush with a swirl of calm colors; like the warm flow of a lava lamp.

“I love you, Dan,” Michael sighed, and Dan buried himself in the feelings those words evoked.

There was nothing insincere about them, no hidden agenda. Just the warm, tight embrace of genuine love wrapping its way around him, much the same way Michael’s body was doing.

He didn't really understand why Michael had chosen him; what special traits he possessed that made this insane, powerful demi-god decide that Dan was worth killing for.

But he did know one thing.

“I love you too, Michael.”


End file.
